Minerva
South of the Border, West of the Sun
@Jeremi
Wherever you are, whatever you might be doing, you somehow receive a telegram. The paper is old, crumpled, and yellowed, and a letterhead reads "WARDENCLYFFE" in a bold, expressive font. It seems hastily written, as if a distress signal. At the top of the paper, next to the logo, some coordinates are hastily scrawled, detailing a location in the North Atlantic, somewhere between Canada and England.
Telegram said:45°03’31N 31°05’50W
SEND HELP. HELIOS STRANDED. SUSPECTED SABOTAGE. REQUESTING AID. COMMUNICATOR ENCLOSED.
At the bottom, you would find what looked like a predecessor to a Bluetooth Earpiece attached to the paper. Putting it in your ear, you blink.
When you open your eyes, you find the ground softly rocking under you. You're in a small but cozy room, akin to a first class cabin on a train. You can hear steam running through pipes and the soft creak of wood under your feet. Soft piano music is being pumped in through a pipe in the ceiling, which is then interrupted by a robotic voice, which is glitching out.
"Dear Esteemed Guest... we are now approach... Helios... For your Safety... Head... the bridge to prepare Docking Procedure..."
There would be a flash of lightning, and outside you could see a large wall, with dim lights dotting its side. It gently stood, rocking up and down on the waves. Small droplets of rain hit against the window, streaking the moonlight against the window.